My Dear Friend
by btamamura
Summary: A Sherlock Hound/Meitantei Holmes fic. Even the dearest of friends can fight, but their bonds are strong enough to keep from fraying. Platonic.


**Disclaimer:** _I do not own_ _ **Sherlock Hound/Meitantei Holmes**_ _, any canon characters or the original_ _ **Sherlock Holmes**_ _works. They are the property of their respective owners._

 **Notes:** _ **I was suddenly hit by this idea, so I wrote it. Argument details are not fully provided, you can come up with your own ideas as to what it concerned.**_

 _ **Platonic relationships only. Might be a bit OOC at times.**_

 _ **I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **(Linebreaks hate me so I will use**_ _SHJW_ _ **.)**_

SHJW

The usual peace in 221B Baker Street had been disturbed. No, it was not because of any criminals wanting to get their vengeance on Sherlock Hound and Dr. John H. Watson. Actually, it was _those two_ who were disturbing the peace.

They continued to shout at each other, rage in their voices. It was short of becoming a physical altercation, by use of fisticuffs, when Watson let out a snarl and stormed out of the sitting room, slamming the door after his departure.

Hound stood in the middle of the room, panting heavily as he tried to get a firm grasp of his heated emotions. He could hear Watson's bedroom door also slam shut and suddenly found himself relieved that Mrs. Marie Hudson was off visiting family; she shouldn't have to bear witness, even audibly, to such behaviour from the pair.

He started thinking about what had led to the current situation. It had been a peaceful, friendly conversation, until a remark that caused offence had been uttered. Hound sighed; he'd been the one to make the remark, but he hadn't intended to offend Watson. His response to Watson's curt reply was a flippant and dismissive one. It was at that point when Watson had risen to his feet, fists clenched at his sides and voice growing louder. But then, Watson had made a remark that offended Hound, so in the end they were both cross with the other. They couldn't calm themselves down, much as they wanted to, and they filled the sitting room with shouts, oaths and, unfortunately, hurtful words.

Another sigh as he went to sit on the armchair. The last thing he'd said before Watson left the room was something he hadn't meant, but his rage had forced his filter to stop working as it should. He looked to the pile of books atop the chest between where he sat and the sofa. Still feeling irate, he kicked the chest, not caring if the books toppled to the floor.

The books did topple, one landed open at his feet. His keen eye spotted his name written in Watson's pen. One ear cocked to the side in puzzlement as he picked it up. It had become something of a game between the pair that Watson would leave a journal he'd filled somewhere in the room, and if Hound found it, he would read it. It appeared he had found another, but there was something different about the one before him. The text stopped halfway down the page, meaning it was incomplete. He would usually leave it be until completed so he could enjoy the fruits of Watson's labour.

But, he couldn't. He propped his feet up on the chest and leaned back in the seat, flipping to the front of the journal.

SHJW

Watson was pacing around his room, still growling under his breath, though he had calmed down somewhat. He started to think about the situation and moved to sit on his bed. Hound's statement had caused him some offence at that moment, but thinking back, it seemed clearer to him that it was not done intentionally; just the wrong words being uttered with little knowledge of what they meant to him. He didn't really counter the remark in an appropriate manner as it only served to provide fuel for their budding argument. He knew that to be true when his counter was responded to in a flippant manner. It was enough to push him further and then he'd said words he hadn't meant, yet served to fan the flames.

Hound's final remark had hurt. He was a doctor, he was not meant to deliver harm onto others; there were times it was necessary but he always made sure to apply first aid immediately after, even if undeserved. But, the statement almost had him raise his paw to the one he called his best friend. It was out of mild alarm at the direction his thoughts had taken that had him storming out of the room.

"We both said some rather inappropriate words to each other," he whispered, the exhaustion from the confrontation filling him. He heard a thud from the sitting room, but he still needed some time to work through his mind before even considering returning to the room, so he stayed put.

SHJW

Hound felt himself calming down as he read the journal. It wasn't actually of a previous case, it was a more personal journal. He knew Watson would never have left it in the sitting room, or at least in a place it could be found, if he didn't want someone else looking at it. But, further reading helped him understand just why Watson had been offended by his innocent statement. He cringed, it had certainly opened an old wound that the good doctor had thought closed over long ago.

He turned the page, already deciding that when Watson wanted to see him again, he would apologise for what he'd said; not just the ones that started it, but everything that had slipped out following. Watson was his dearest friend, he would never intentionally hurt him if he could help it, but since he had, he had to make things right. His eyes widened at what they saw next.

 _I am considered to be a rather sociable chap by those who know me; many wonder if it's because I am a doctor, but it's actually my amicable nature that allowed me to decide I'd do a service by being kind to those who need it most. I've made many friends in my lifetime; the lads from school, the families of long-term patients in my care, the fellows in the army (may those that are lost rest in peace), and while I consider myself a fortunate man for knowing them, there is but one whom has ever been considered my dearest friend, and his name is..._

Hound felt his throat tighten as he read the name aloud. " _Sherlock Hound._ " Never had he felt like such a cad as he had in that very moment.

SHJW

After an hour, Watson decided the solitude was enough and knew it was time. Hopefully, Hound had calmed down too. He rose to his feet and made his way out of the bedroom, gently closing the door after himself. He stopped at the sitting room door, hesitating for a few seconds before considering that knocking might be a good idea.

"This is your home too, Watson, you can come in without knocking!"

He blinked twice in mild astonishment before a small grin marked his muzzle. He could tell Hound had also cooled down by the tone of his voice. He reached for the doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open, stepping into the room and quietly closing the door after himself. He saw Hound seated on the armchair, books on the floor near the chest where his feet were propped. He approached him and noticed a familiar book in his paws.

"I hope you don't mind my taking a liberty in reading this."

He shook his head and moved to sit on the sofa. "Not at all, old boy, though it's not finished yet."

Hound nodded in acknowledgement of the response, his expression contrite. "My dear Watson, I wish to offer my most sincere apologies for everything I had said before and during our vocal altercation. Though it was without intent, I had offended you, and only served to further do so instead of acknowledging your feelings on the matter. I will not ask of your forgiveness as it is more than I deserve for saying such hurtful words to my dearest friend."

Watson's eyes were soft as he nodded. "You don't have to ask for forgiveness because I offer it. I have to apologise as well. I was right to be offended by your first statement but I should've responded in a better manner than snapping at you; rather, I should've explained how it made me feel. I realised that you were unaware of my reasons to offence, and I said some regrettable words towards yourself, so I am not completely innocent in this matter. Hound, my deepest, sincerest apologies for what I'd said."

"Your apology is gracefully accepted and my forgiveness to you is returned."

The room had suddenly regained the more homely feel it usually has. Hound smiled and held up the journal. "I noticed this is much more to the point and focuses heavily on personal memories. So, this must be an autobiography in the works."

Watson nodded and beamed, feeling much better after clearing the air with Hound. "Indeed! It may not ever be published; our cases are far more interesting to the masses."

"Then, those who refuse to read of what a great man you are only prove to be fools." His expression was serious.

"Oh, it doesn't bother me, Hound, I'm fine with it."

"My dear Watson, when you write out our cases, you rarely provide details of yourself. Those of future generations may misconstrue the importance of your presence. That is something I can't bear to think of."

"Hound?"

"What is Sherlock Hound without Dr. John Watson? Simply a detective. But, with Dr. Watson, Sherlock Hound is much more."

Watson thought over his words, eyes widening.

"I would only be known as a detective, but with you, I am more than a title. I want you to be remembered as my _friend_ , not my _biographer_."

"I...my presence in the accounts does nothing to improve the story. I am simply _there_. I ask questions when you understand what I miss."

"You do far more than you realise. I read all the way to the end of what you wrote and felt myself becoming a bit emotional when I saw your paragraph about me. I may come across as amiable to clients, and to yourself, but I was always more a solitary creature. Before I met you, I only really allowed myself to call others my acquaintances. Of all the people in this world, it was you who I felt I could say was my friend and actually mean it. Thanks to you helping me see that friendship is actually a good thing after all, I found myself becoming more open to the idea. I am still not as sociable as you, but I am no longer as solitary as I once was. Of course, no matter how many come my way, you are the only one I will call, with all my heart, my closest, dearest, best friend. You matter to _me_ , Watson, and I want the world to know that for generations to come."

"Hound...I am deeply touched by your words. I will try to give myself more of a presence in our cases, but as for the autobiography...if someone finds it and wants to publish it after I'm gone, then so be it. That includes you, my dear Hound. If I should go before you, you have my permission to have it published."

"I will do that and see to it that they do you justice. Just as you've done for me."

SHJW

 **After notes:** _ **Thanks for reading! You don't have to review, but if you do wish to say something, please don't flame. Constructive criticism is welcomed as always.**_


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